The sun was rising early today; he was used to it, he had seen it many tis, but normally it would an that he was going to sleep. In his ti training Soul Sense, he spent many nights practicing, only stopping when morning ca around, but now, he had woken up with the sun in the sky.
And the reason was that Kael had assigned him a very important mission to do, one that was going to take so ti and so physical effort.
...
He sighed, his hands clenching the mop in his hand. Of course, the old man ant chores when he was talking about jobs; he probably hadn’t cleared this place in months, that’s how dirty it was.
It was so weird how things could co around.
He had entered Demon of Dread so ti ago, got sent into the Tides, where he spent months getting out, keeping his ember alive, and surviving near-death experiences left and right, copied a technique created by the Abyss, and finally defeated a monster, since he couldn’t call Denial anything else.
All of that just to get back to the real world, and for what, to be put to clean the floors? Like, co on, when was he going to make any progress in this book, since so far it had only felt as if he had been training constantly.
Soul Sense, and now the learning to use the rapier... and he hadn’t even started the training, he had to find a way to get rid of his anger before he could start the training.
Just for how long was he going to train before he made any progress? Weren’t trials designed to make the challenger the main character? Shouldn’t things be happening around him? That’s what happened in normal books, so why was it always so different whenever he entered one?
Aether sighed, wiping the floor of the main floor with his mop. He had never been put to clean. When he was young, his maids used to do it. Clean his room, make his bed, and throw away any garbage in his room. And in the Withred cleaning was for nothing, since it would just get dirty again imdiately.
He either had soone else to do it or didn’t have a reason to do it.
So clear to say this was weird to him, being forced to clean.
Being a housekeeper.
He would have never thought soone could have that power over him to make him clean, but here he was; there was no denying the truth.
And this probably wasn’t the end of Kael’s sches to fully take advantage of his need for training. It was only the start.
So how was he supposed to lose his anger when he angered him even more?
Well... at least he could use this ti to do sothing he wished to do since getting Soul Sense for the first ti.
That being to use the ability while his eyes were open.
Really, it was harder done than said, I an, he closed his eyes to be inside the darkness, to not be blinded by the real world, just like the ability said. Would he really be able to see both the real world and the soul world at the sa ti, and would it even help him?
Either way, if it did or not. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do.
And if it didn’t, it wasn’t like it hurt him. But if it did, then it would make him more powerful. So what did he lose?
...
...
Aether sighed. He hadn’t been able to make any progress with Soul Sense... he didn’t understand why, I an, it worked just fine when he closed his eyes, so why wouldn’t it work here?
Well, this was just the first day of training, so he tried not to dread, telling himself that he would be able to get it one day, after all, he had the ti.
After all, Kael didn’t stop after he cleaned the floor; he made him wash his clothes.
And since none of them had any power related to water, he had to go to a random river near the dojo Kael had told him about.
Washing clothes was also sothing he hadn’t done. After all, clothes got dirty and ripped easily in the Witherd. Plus, after that, he got his cloak, which couldn’t be stained, yet here he was. Scrubbing clothes in a river.
The river ran sluggish between the trees, dark water catching faint streaks of light that slipped through the thinning canopy. Leaves clung stubbornly to branches, many already yellowing and brittle, trembling whenever the wind touched them.
The air pressed against his skin, sharp enough to make him flinch, carrying the faint tang of damp soil and the promise of frost further upstream. The ground underfoot was uneven, soft with fallen leaves in so places, hard and frozen in others, and every step made a faint crunch that seed louder than it should have been.
Around him, the forest humd quietly, but differently than before. Branches swayed with a restless rhythm, and the occasional snap of a twig echoed through the trees, startling in the stillness.
Moss clung to rocks and tree roots, slick and cold, and the undergrowth pressed close, shadows stretching in dark, almost deliberate patterns.
Even the reeds at the river’s edge shivered as the current tugged at them, moving just enough to whisper their warning.
The river itself was dark and slow, winding between stones and fallen branches, the water catching the pale sunlight in thin, fleeting streaks.
Tiny ripples chased each other along the surface as he rubbed the wet clothes against the cold stones.
Where the current ran deeper, it murmured softly, a steady, quiet sound that seed patient and indifferent, as if the river had been here far longer than anyone else and would endure long after. Patches of mist hovered just above the surface, curling into shallow eddies and ghosting over the edges, lending the scene a restless, waiting quality.
Birds moved in short, sharp bursts above him, their calls clipped and wary. Occasionally, a shadow passed overhead, and the forest seed to lean closer, as if listening.
The sunlight that reached the ground was thin, hesitant, falling in fragile streaks over frost-darkened rocks and reeds.
Every leaf, every branch, every ripple in the water seed alert, pressed to its own edge in anticipation, and even the river’s gentle tug felt sharper, colder, more insistent.
He scrubbed the fabric against the stones, feeling the bite of the cold water through his gloves, but the chill in the air and the subtle stiffness of the ground pressed against him as well, settling into his bones.
The forest did not speak, but the tension was there, in the way the wind curved through the trees, in the stiffness of the leaves and reeds, in the shadows that lingered too long at the edges of his vision.
Everything seed poised, held at the edge of change. The river continued to wind, the trees shivered, and the mist curled and broke in silent, deliberate motions. Even the sunlight hesitated in the pale sky, falling in thin shards that lingered just long enough to remind him of what was waiting beyond the forest.
And as he worked, rubbing the water and fabric together, the quiet pressure pressed in around him, a constant reminder that the world was waiting, restless and unyielding, as the cold crept ever closer.
...
Aether stopped scrubbing, taking a deep breath, feeling the cold air enter his airways, hugging his throat with its cold presence.
He should have known, after all, it had been his birthday recently, so of course things would be like this soon enough.
Winter... was coming.
He had never experienced a winter in a book. So he didn’t know what he should think of it. Those from the Withered were bad, really bad, but at the sa ti, by how the forest looked, this was also going to be a tough winter.
And it had co all of a sudden, he could tell that this world shifted quite a lot when it ca to temperature and other stuff.
He didn’t know if that was just how this world had always been, or if the Tides were at fault; after all, they were the problem of everything in this world. Why this world was what it was today was because of it and the Demon of Dread.
So it wasn’t bad to guess that they might have also been the reason for why the world’s climate changed so much.
Either way, he was done with washing. He set up, putting the clothes into a backpack Kael had given him, which was waterproof if he rembered correctly. Since, surprisingly, the old man was quite a good craftsman.
When it cos to his gift, he will definitely ask for armor.
But enough of what he was going to do in the future, he had to get back.
After all, Kael had a very important job for him, an actual job.
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